A quick shower, a swipe of lip gloss and a spritz of perfume and I’m almost ready to go.  Having spent the last few days in grubby jeans and t-shirts, this maxi dress is a welcome change.  I scrape my towel- dried hair up in a pony-tail; grab my bag and keys head off.  The brightness of the midday sun causes me squint and makes me regret not bringing sunglasses. The weather has been fantastic since I arrived, although I haven’t seen much of it.  The house has taken far longer to sort than I expected, sifting through Dorothy’s pictures and papers. 

I found a diary today.  It was tucked away in a small drawer in a cabinet and I really don’t know what I’m going to do with it.  Sorting and disposing of old bills and such-like was easy.  These were merely functional documents that told me little about Dorothy, but a diary is something else and I am not sure if I want to read it.  It feels like I’d be intruding into her personal life.  The diary is old and water stained but the writing is still legible and dated 1942.  From as far I have dared to venture inside it, I can see what beautiful handwriting she had.  

“Good morning Alice.”

A voice frees me from my thoughts.

Good morning,” I say to an elderly woman pulling a shopping trolley behind her and feel a little surprised that she knows my name.

“You off to the barbecue then?”

“Err..Yes, thought it time I met some people.  I’ve been a bit of a hermit since I arrived.”

The old lady gives me a kind smile.  “Good friends I was with your Aunt.  She’d have loved to have met you nowadays.”  Her eyes twinkle and her lips smirk slightly.  “You come round mine for tea tomorrow and I’ll tell you all about her if you like?”

"Thank you, that would be very nice, Mrs…” 

“No Mrs anything, you can call me Muriel.  I live two doors down from you so pop round at five.  Does that suit?”

“Ah, so you’re my neighbour with the magical green fingers then?”  Her back garden is wonderful; beautifully planted with flowers and shrubs grouped together in blocks of colour.  It makes mine an embarrassing eyesore in comparison.

“Thank you, dear,” she says and laughs. “Your Aunt wasn’t much of a gardener too.  But these days I can’t take all the credit for mine; I am too old to be out breaking sweat with a shovel.  Tell you what, I’ll give you the details of the man who does mine when you come round.”

“That'd be great, thanks. See you tomorrow at five then.”

She nods.  "Enjoy the barbecue, but stay away from Mr Wheeler, the man who owns the garage.  I’m told he gets a bit handsy when he's had one too many.”

“Will do,” I laugh and we part ways. 

I continue down the road towards the village and soon come to the house with the funny dog, which is sat behind the gate.  He sees me, slowly gets up and walks over, tongue hanging out; his tail frantically waving from side to side.  A quick check tells me that me that his owner is nowhere to be seen so I stop and give the top of his head a little scratch. 

“Hello boy, you seem happy to see me.”

The dog pants happily back.

“Too hot for you is it?”

“Jet, how've you managed to get out again?” I look and see a woman in a navy uniform come down the drive. “Mr Piper is despairing of you.  Now get you back inside.”

The dog turns and gives me a forlorn look and then retreats to the house.

“Don’t know what’s got into that dog?” She says addressing me.  “He's normally such a compliant animal, but the last few days he's been sat at that gate as if he's waiting for something.”

“I think I might have got him into trouble.  The dog got all excited when I walked by the other day and his owner wasn’t very happy with me” I reply, as she opens the gate.

“Don’t you worry about old Piper; he has grumpy old man's syndrome.  I go into him, get him up and dressed every day and I don’t think he's once said thank you in all the time I’ve been doing it.   Such a shame really, you know, getting to that age and not having any family.  Loneliness in old age is worse than any medical ailment.”  She nods a goodbye and sets off down the road.

Loneliness at any age is horrible.

I take a last look at the house and try to shrug off the sad feeling creeping up on me.    

Within a few minutes I’m at the door to the pub and take a deep breath before entering.  I always find meeting new people such a nerve-wracking experience, which is odd considering how many times I’ve moved somewhere new and had to start over.  Focusing on the bar, I walk over and order a glass of rose wine from a round man with a shiny bald head.

"Alice, glad you came.”  Tommy appears by my side and I immediately relax a little, grateful that I know at least one person.  “This is my dad, Trevor.  Dad, this is Alice, Dorothy’s great niece, the one I told you about.”

“Very pleased to meet you, Alice.”  He holds out his hand and we shake.  I notice the discreet wink he gives Tommy and I blush.

“Come, Alice.  Let’s go find a table with some shade in the garden.”

I follow him through the quiet pub, where a couple of elderly men are sat playing a game of dominoes and drinking real ale.  We walk out into the garden to find it heaving with families; small children running round, squealing with joy.  Brightly-coloured parasols provide shade to each table and in the right hand corner is a large smoking barbecue; the smell of hickory wood smoke hangs in the air and my stomach rumbles at the thought of grilled sausages.

“Forgive my dad, Alice.  My folks are currently despairing at my single status. They can’t seem to fathom that I am more than happy as I am.  Mum keeps reminding me that when she was my age, they were married and pregnant with my older sister.  Do your folks give you grief over stuff like this?”

The words spoken so innocently cut deeply.  I'm normally on my guard, ready to protect myself from questions such as these, but today for some reason I feel ill-prepared.  I know my face has turned ashen, I can see that he knows he's said something wrong and that makes me feel even worse.  I quickly reply to save him from having to back-peddle or god forbid apologise.

“I don’t have any family, Tommy.  Dorothy was my last living relative and unfortunately she’s gone too.”

“Oh, I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be.  I’m a big girl now!”

Realising I'm not going to say anymore and trying to make up for his question, he begins telling me about the people around us.  Who is who, who is married to whom and who is having an illicit affair with whom?  The next half an hour is a revelation and I'm glad of the people tour he gives me. 

“There she is Arthur, I knew she’d come.  I do hope Tommy is looking after you Alice?”

I turn and find Betty, the owner of the post office standing next to a tired, worn looking man.  She stands glaring at us, at Tommy.

“Of course, Betty, I’ve been the perfect gentleman.”  Tommy says giving her a wide smile.

“Tommy Benson, you don’t know what the term gentleman means. I’ve heard the stories.”

Tommy pulls a hurt, innocent face and then gives her a wink.

“You, young man, need to watch your step or one day an angry boyfriend or husband will come looking for you.  I’ll catch up with you later when you are keeping better company, Alice.”

She turns on her heels and her husband follows obediently behind.

“What on earth did you ever do to her?”  I ask, a little bewildered by her reaction.

“Not her, but her daughter Emma.  We dated for a couple of years, but I ended it last year.”

"Why?”

"There wasn’t anyone else involved, if that’s what you’re thinking.  It just wasn’t working, so I called time.  Emma didn’t take it very well.  She and her mother had already picked out rings and venues.  Since then, Betty's taken quite a vocal dislike of me.

“Ah, I see, a spurned mother-in- law in waiting.”

“Yep!  Alice, this a lovely village, always has been, but the people here seem to take great delight in other peoples’ lives.  As I said the other day, you are the talk of the village.  I want to know if there is anything to talk about? ”

I laugh a little too quickly.

“Is Betty right and there's a boyfriend hiding away, waiting to pounce on me?”

“No, no boyfriend.  There was, but it wasn’t going anywhere if you know.”   

He smiles, takes a sip from the lager and looks directly at me.  “So, Alice, would you like to come out for a meal or a drink with me sometime?”

I wasn’t expecting that.  I've never dated in the traditional sense and whilst I find it flattering, it also feels a bit odd.  “Err… yes, ok.”

“Great, now how about another drink,” he says and heads off inside.

The rest of the afternoon, I spend chatting to the Tommy and the villagers, who are all too eager to spill the gossip.  The food is lovely, but I don’t seem to eat enough to soak up the amount of alcohol that I consume.  As the sun begins to set, I decide it’s time I better head for home. 

“Thanks for a lovely afternoon, Tommy."

I stand up and my legs don’t want to work as well as they normally do.  My head spins and I sit back down. “Oops,” I giggle.

“Why don't I walk you home, Miss Giddy."

“Aw, that’s really sweet of you, but I’ll be fine.”

“Alice, I insist.  You do want to get home tonight, don’t you?  Look, this is me being a gentleman, please let me walk you home.”

“Okay,” I slur, knowing already that tomorrow I will have a huge hangover.

We say goodbye to the few hard-core drinkers who seem rooted to their seats and head off.  The cloudless sky during the dayleft a very cool night.  I shiver and wish I'd bought a sweater with me. 

“Here have my jacket.”  He takes it off and drapes it over my shoulders and I am grateful for the warmth.  As we walk, we somehow end up holding hands and his thumb rubs over the fleshy part beneath my thumb. 

“So, how do fancy going into Norwich for a meal on Saturday?” he asks.

I've only been there once to visit the solicitors, but it seemed like a really busy, vibrant place and a lifetime away from the grime of central London.

“That’d be nice, thanks.”

We walk in silence and slowly the cold air helps sharpen my alcohol-dulled senses. I hear him sigh and then he spins me round and starts kissing me.  It is a nice kiss, slight, barely there and I relax into his embrace.  He holds my face and slowly pushes his finger back into the roots of my hair. The kiss continues and he nibbles my bottom lip.  I let slip a slight moan and it is as if I have given him the green light to take it further.  His hands leave my hair and run down my back, over his coat and come to rest on my backside.  He squeezes gently and pulls me towards him and deepens the kiss; his tongue probes inside my mouth.  His grip tightens slightly and the sensation of his pelvis coming forward to meet mine, feels too fast.  I try to pull back a little but find I can’t move.  I turn my head to stop the kiss but one of his hands lift up off my backside and grabs the back of my head and pushes me towards his face again.

"Tommy, I’m cold.”

“Alice, don’t worry, I can warm you up.”  His voice sounds light-hearted.

His tongue tries to enter my mouth again and I push my head back.

“Tommy, please.  I want to go home.”

“In a little while Alice, why spoil the fun we are having.”

He pushes me backwards and we stumble into a bush.

“No Tommy, not now.  Please.”

“Alice, chill out!”  His tone this time is different this time; chilly.

"Tommy, stop please.  I'm going home by myself.  I'll see you next Saturday.”  My voice sounds shaky and fake.  He knows I now mean no such thing and grips my arm tighter; it begins to really hurt.

“Come on, Alice, what’s wrong with two single people hooking up?”

“Nothing, but I just don’t want to tonight.”

“Alice, I know you're into me.”  His left hand leaves my right arm and he grabs at my breast.

“Tommy.  No!”  I shout, hating the fact it almost sounds as if I am pleading with him. 

“Alice, Alice, Alice.  You do so like to tease don't you?”  His head bends forward and he sucks at my neck as I squirm, trying to get out of his grip.

“The young lady asked you to leave her alone, Tommy Benson.  I suggest you do just that.”

Tommy jumps away from me and we both find ourselves looking up at the old man, the one who owns the dog.  The weak street light, reveals a once tall man, now a little bent over but standing resolutely, glaring at Tommy.  I begin to shake and it’s not from the cold. 

“I wasn’t doing anything!  Alice and I were just having some fun.”  Tommy looks down at his feet and sounds like a guilty little boy, trying to clamour out of a hole.

“Didn’t look that way to me and I don’t think Alice thought it was fun either.  I shake my head in agreement, embarrassed into silence.  Get home you stupid boy, or I shall be calling your father about this.”

Without a glance at me, he runs off, leaving me standing in front of the old man, still wearing the Tommy's stupid coat.

“Are you alright, Alice?”

I try to answer, but a sob escapes. 

“Come child, let’s get you warmed up inside.  Jet will surely be glad to spend more time with you.”

I look down and find the friendly black dog, sat at his master’s heels and I wonder what to do.  I just want to be on my own, but that same thought scares the life out of me.

“That would be nice, thank you.”

He opens up the gate and I enter the garden.

“Thank you,” I whisper, tears fall down my face and we slowly walk down the path and into his warm house, the sound of his cane tapping on the hard asphalt as we go.